Marked For Death
by Nommy
Summary: The hand of the family is extended.


Marked for Death

†

Soundless sleep, the tell-tale sign that one is at peace with themselves. Yes, yes; that is the saying, one who sleeps without being wakened by their guilt, by their shame, is perfect for me. I have searched far and wide from Bravil to Bruma seeking _this_ one. My hands feel steady, wrapped in a second skin of soft deceitful leather, black as night and as supple as a woman's flesh. Between my skilled fingers is a steel knife, not ordinary steel of course for how could I cut the soul from the lion's share with a glorified butter knife? The Blade of Woe rests in my hand, deadly and plain; dark rippling metal with a deadly curve and a wicked cutting edge. It is an instrument of the Void, a force that I wield with such subtlety, I must always be..._subtle_.

I hear a stirring and my head rises from my own ponderings. From behind the thick blackness of my warm velvet hood I see them awaken from their peaceful sleep. It is safe here for us – I have checked. We may conduct our business without fear of prosecution here, but we must never think ourselves _truly_ safe. True security lays only in womb of our Mother and after that our Sanctuary and then even after that, the eternal and yawning Void of our Father. A soft groan and a sleepy grunt escape tired lips. They are never what you expect, no, it is always the ones you least expect to be capable of such morbid atrocities. I am Speaker, though; and I shall speak to this one, and they must listen.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer,"

I begin and I see that they are surprised to see me in their room. At such an intimate distance I could do so much. So much indeed, but I curb my teasing nature and caress the ancient blade in my hand. Flicking my calculating gaze up, I can see now a _killer_ before me,

"That is good, you will need a clear conscience for what I am about to propose."

This one eyes me suspiciously, like an untamed alley cat. I smile lazily at this; I am old enough and have been serving darker beings for as long as I can remember to be surprised by their unwillingness. I have met many people and ended as many as I've met, most _straight_ after I'd met them. This one has fire though, a hunger for darkness; so much so that I can feel the Lucky Lady rolling the dice and determining this one's fate utterly personally. I get up, unfolding my long legs, I have been sitting watching and waiting for so long;

"Then you prefer _silence_ then? As do I, my dear child. Our arts lie in listening, seeing and acting."

I hear myself chuckle at this pantomime, the one on the bed simply watches me, and waits. Is it fear, obedience or curiosity keeping this one locked to the bed? I think it is a good deal of all of them, but I sense more curiosity than anything else. Why, I think I may even grow to like this silent glarer, so I saunter over to the bed now, closing the distance between us and kneel before the bed. Gazing up at this ambitious young thing, I say sincerely,

"I come to you now as Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood."

There is a brief, such a tiny flash in their eyes. The mayfly has ensnared the cod and now I have them in my soft, leather grasp. Will I choke or embrace?

"My name is Lucien Lachance, and my voice is the will of the Night Mother."

Our Lady's name bears weight amongst the superstitious and foolish, but I know for her existence to be true. She is real, death's cruel woman and to doubt her _is_ foolishness indeed. She is our Mother, and I am the one to speak for her although I never hear her.

"She's been watching you."

I assure the gleaming eyes blazing at me on the bed,

"Observing you as you kill, admiring you as you end life without pity or remorse."

I sheathe the Blade of Woe to show my sincerity. Those eyes follow my every move, calculation, manoeuvring and stealth; they have it all and I know Mother has chosen well.

"The Night Mother is _most_ pleased."

There is hesitation there too – I can see it. I have been reading faces for a very long time, fear, love, jealousy and envy; all can be gleaned from one with such eyes as this one. It is a little vulnerable, I'll admit, but such talent should not be passed up, regardless of those two shortcomings embedded in the skull. Offering a gloved hand, they take it. I grin, my charming oftentimes troublesome grin,

"That is why I come to you now. I bear an offering, an opportunity...to join our rather _unique_ family."

There is a break in my thoughts. This is not my time, for mine has passed. The one I sought out slips away and so do I. Engulfed by a blackness so dark it blots out everything utterly. I scream in my fury as I am snatched back to serve my Father. I can see no one here; it is so very quiet and empty. There is relief though, the comfort of Mother's embrace as she holds me, a child of Sithis. For the first time I hear her voice,

Her rasps which bring me serenity like death's ululations reverberating throughout this black purgatory. She tells me that I will live again; tied to yet another in their life as _that_ one was tied to my end. I accept Mother's promises and she beckons me sleep now. Closing my eyes I feel the Void closing in around me, and Mother's arms enfold me. It is so silent, so _deathly_ quiet. And then I hear it;

"What is the music of life?"

A shadowy riddle uttered in the black. Come on, I think. You know this! But it is not me who is answering my Brother's game, no, I am not here. I hear a voice, unfamiliar but completely familiar at the same time. Strange, I know. Mother seems anxious for _this_ one; I can feel her bones warming and Father's will ebb. We all watch, all of us; we wait until we hear the answer to the children's game,

"Silence, my brother."

Light floods in through the cracks of darkness, I feel life surge through me again; although I cannot yet break through. I feel Mother smile and I hear our Father's dreadful mirth, he is pleased with events. Something is happening, the wheel is turning and Mother promises me that soon I will be long for the world again.


End file.
